


And Food Which Sustains Man's Heart

by flightinflame



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Misunderstandings, Protective Jacob Kowalski, Shy Newt Scamander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 08:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10827711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Jacob's bakery is doing well, and Newt is a regular customer.  But when a certain director starts getting too close to Newt, Jacob won't let another friend get hurt.  Even if it kills him.





	And Food Which Sustains Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider the warnings here. Whilst there is nothing graphic, there are discussions of sexual assault, injury and suicide.  
> Title from Psalm 104:15  
> For this prompt on the kinkmeme: http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=2267552#cmt2267552

The air was full of sugar, as Jacob carefully positioned the eyes in some of the new pastries. These ones were in the shape of occamy, and were the final piece of decoration. He held it up for Credence to inspect, and the boy nodded quickly. He had been helping out in the bakery while Newt stayed in New York, and he was building in confidence. He had steady hands, and was surprisingly neat with piping, which meant that he was decorating some of the cakes. He liked making birthday cakes for the people around there, and Credence had a real flair for them.   
"You given any thoughts to what you want on your cake yet?"  
Credence shook his head, a faint blush on his cheeks. It broke Jacob's heart how eagerly Credence smiled at any praise.  
"We still don't need..." He started, and Jacob held up a hand to silence him.  
"It's okay." Jacob grinned. "One of the perks of the job. Any employee of mine gets a birthday cake."   
Credence ducked his head, but Jacob could see the smile that rested on his face.

The door opened with a ring of the bell, and Jacob looked up to see William Madison walking through, running through to the back and pulling an apron over the his clothes, hands stained with ink from school.  
"Sorry I'm late boss."  
"You get in trouble at school again?" Jacob asked, reaching out and running a floury hand through the boy's blond waves.  
"No!" William crossed his arms. "I was just finishing some writing."  
"Okay. I won't dock your pay today..." Jacob teased, fishing under the counter for the box the boy could stand on. He leaned over the counter, and grinned at one of the nearest customers.   
"Can I suggest the winged snakes?" William asked, reaching down for a sample and handing it out. The customer ate it with a smile, and Jacob watched the boy carefully. William looked more like his father every day. Jacob had served with Bill Madison during the war, had helped him get home. When it had all got too much for the man, driven by nightmares to put a bullet in his skull, the note he left his pregnant wife had said that Jacob was a good guy. That he was his friend, and that Bill wanted Jacob to know it wasn't his fault. Jacob still blamed himself, had sent what he could spare from his work at the canning factory to support William and his mother. When he got the bakery, offering the boy a job had made sense. William was only nine, but he was good with money and smart as a whip. Give it a few years, and Jacob could see him doing well, could see him taking over a second bakery if he ever opened one. Knowing the counter was in good hands, he popped out back to check on the cakes that were in the oven.

Credence was pulling his apron off over his head, and paused for a moment when he saw Jacob.  
"Found this." He explained, holding out a small ball of fluff. "Puffskein. Not sure if it was in my pocket or it followed me."  
"Take it home, then come back. And decide what you want on your cake." Jacob answered with a fond smile, pulling a tray of baking out of the oven and leaving them to cool. When Credence returned, he could get on with that.

"Mister?" William called out, and Jacob wandered back into the main body of the shop. "Your friend's here!"  
Newt was standing in the center of the shop, his head ducked down. He looked small, nervous, skittish. He was hiding, even in the middle of the crowd. It would be easy to have missed where he was standing.  
"Hey Newt?" He called out, and the young man looked up. "You okay there?"  
"Just wondered if the cakes were ready for the office..." Newt mumbled. He'd been working at the auror offices recently, and Jacob tried not to worry. He knew about the swooping evil named Yo-Yo Newt kept in his sleeve. Newt was able to defend himself, but his way around people made Jacob protective of him. He was only too aware of how easy it was for people to hurt someone like Newt.  
"Not quite yet I'm afraid." He answered. "My decorator had to go home and return a kitten that had crept into his pocket. So you're going to have to wait a minute."  
"I'll wait outside." Newt murmured, almost fleeing from the shop. William giggled, then stood up straight when he noticed Jacob was looking at him.

"So what's funny kid?" Jacob asked lightly.  
"Your friend goes all pink." The boy answered innocently, his mother's Irish accent bleeding into his voice. He continued in what he clearly thought was a whisper. "Even his ears."  
Jacob considered, and then decided that he couldn't criticise the boy for something which was clearly true. Still, he didn't want Newt to feel embarrassed or humiliated.  
"Don't laugh at people who get nervous kid. It'll only make it worse for them."

"Sorry Mister." William muttered, wiping his hands on the apron and handing over a bread roll to a customer. "Did dad ever get scared?"  
Jacob shook his head. As far as William knew, Bill had died from a war injury. It was true in a way, just not how he understood it. Bill had been kind, and funny, and shy. There were a lot of ways that Newt reminded Jacob of him. Like Jacob, Bill had enjoyed cooking, and the two of them had formed a strong friendship.

"Your dad was real brave." Jacob promised. "Didn't even scream when he got shot in the arm, he was just excited to be going home to your momma."  
"'Cause he loved her?"  
"He loved her very much." Jacob agreed, trying to block the images filling his mind of holding the gun, of Bill stuffing his own mouth with fabric to muffle any noise as Jacob lined up the shot that would get him sent home. "Carried a picture of her in his pocket, and he'd kiss her every night before he went to sleep."  
"You think he'd love me too?" William asked, a little shy himself now.  
"Course he would kid. He'd be real proud of you if he knew how well you worked and how smart you are." Jacob promised, embracing the boy. "Now go on, see if that lady over there wants something."

William hurried away, and Jacob took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and chase away the memories of the war, of all that he had done and all he had failed to do. He had hoped that the injury would be enough to save Bill, who could no longer stand to be at the front, but it was too little too late. Bill was already gone before he left the trenches. It just took him a few months before he picked up a gun once more. If Jacob had his way, William would never ever know what happened to his father. 

Bill wouldn't have wanted the boy to know.

Credence rushed back into the shop, a little out of breath as he hurried over to the cooling cakes.  
"Sorry!" He squeaked, and Jacob smiled. He hadn't yet trained the young man out of apologising, but he counted it as a success that Credence no longer expected to be beaten for every infraction, however slight.   
"Don't you worry yourself." He told him. "Cakes to decorate, soon as you can." 

"For Mister Scamander?" Credence asked as he searched for the right piping bag. "He and Mister Graves were talking over by the trash cans."  
"Yeah. For Mister Scamander." Jacob agreed. "Will, you okay out front for a bit?"  
"Yes boss!" William answered, standing up a little straighter on his box.

"I just gotta go check on them." He told Credence. "Any emergency, you call me, but I won't be long."  
"I'll do my best." Credence said sincerely. Jacob nodded, and headed towards the door, a frown on his face. Mister Graves had been sniffing around Newt a little too much for Jacob's liking. For a moment he considered making some grand statement, asking Credence to tell Queenie how much Jacob loved her, or something equally stupid. But she read his mind. She already knew.

The sound of the shop door closing behind him felt almost final, the noise echoing in Jacob's mind. He shook his head. He'd had his share of cowardice on the front. Pretended to be asleep when some of the men had grabbed Bill from the ruins of the farmhouse they had been resting in. They'd been drunk, and been complaining about the lack of girls. He'd seen them pull Bill's hair, a little longer than regulation allowed it to be, and heard them say that Bill was pretty enough for the night. He'd done nothing. He'd been laying down, under a blanket, his rifle several feet away. They'd been armed. They'd dragged Bill off, and he had laid there and done nothing.

When Bill had stumbled in hours later, his uniform was ripped and messy. Jacob and him had sat together for the rest of the night, mending it before he failed inspection. They were back in the front the next day, fighting alongside the others, and if Bill's smile had faded slightly, Jacob pretended not to see. Then a few weeks later, it had been another ruined village, and the same men had approached. That time Jacob had argued, and been left with a black eye for his trouble. He remembered the hopeless look in Bill's eyes as he turned to him and told him to leave it. That it'd be okay.

The next morning, Bill had said he couldn't survive it any longer. Asked Jacob to give him a blighty, a wound to ensure he got sent home. If he shot himself in the foot, it would get noticed. He'd face a court martial for cowardice. But a shoulder wound like the one he got, that couldn't be self inflicted. So Jacob had done it. He'd thought it would save him. But it hadn't. The chance to save Bill had passed with that first night, when he had closed his eyes and turned away. 

He wasn't going to turn his back on Newt. He hoped that his instincts were wrong, but if they weren't then he was going to do what was right. He was going to protect his friend, even if it meant he got hurt. He was aware that Mister Graves was considered talented, even among wizardkind, remembered how easily Grindelwald had brought them all to their knees with a flick of the wrist. But he'd failed Bill. He wouldn't fail Newt. 

As he turned the corner, he found himself faced with the sight he feared. Graves had Newt pressed back against the wall. Newt was blushing worse than he had in the shop, his gaze fixed on the floor as Mister Graves boxed him in with his body, leaning in close, whispering to him. Jacob knew that Graves was powerful, knew that Newt's case was illegal under wizarding law. Knew that Newt really had no choice but to go along with whatever Graves wanted in the hope of keeping himself and his creatures alive.

This time he wouldn't close his eyes and look away.

He sprinted the short distance down the alleyway, heart thumping in his chest as he brought his fist up and slammed it into Graves' jaw. Graves stumbled away from Newt, and Jacob turned to the magizoologist.  
"Run." He begged.  
Newt drew his wand, and suddenly Jacob found his feet were rooted to the spot. A glance at the director confirmed that he was faced with the same predicament. 

"What?" Graves asked, raising a hand to rub his jaw and looking more startled than anything else.  
"Who are you?" Newt asked Graves, and the Director frowned.  
"Percival Graves. Same as I was yesterday. I knew you were getting us some cakes, so I thought I'd pop by and see how you were getting on - a decision I'm regretting now. Why is your No-Maj attacking me?"  
Both of their eyes were now on Jacob, and he raised his head. He wasn't ashamed of what he had done.

"I'm not letting you hurt him."  
"Hurt me?" Newt asked, and Jacob sighed.  
"Look, Newt, you're my friend. I know he's powerful and all, but you don't gotta let him get away with this. It isn't right."  
"What, exactly, am I being accused of?" The Director asked, as movement returned to Jacob's feet. Jacob took a few hesitant steps forwards to position himself between Newt and Graves.

"Newt's...delicate."  
"He regularly carts around dead animals and he has a swooping evil in his sleeve. I'd hardly call him fragile." The Director countered. "And he can fight his own battles, you don't need to step in."  
"He can't fight you. You're important." Jacob answered. "And I know what he does with the creatures. But with people, he's shy, and he's... he's got nice lips and soft hair and all that stuff that ladies are meant to have."  
"I'm pretty sure he's missing a few things ladies are meant to have." The Director muttered.

"Didn't stop your type during the war." Jacob spat. Newt frowned, reaching out for Jacob's hand and squeezing, and Jacob turned his attention to Newt. Newt was the important one here, the one Jacob wanted to protect.  
"What do you mean our type?"  
"Not your type Newt. His. Guys who get what they want even if the other guy is saying no. I ... I saw what they did. And I did nothing, and there ain't a day goes by when I don't regret it. But I can't let it happen to you. I can't let him use you. I don't care that he's got magic. I can't let you get hurt."

Newt darted forwards, wrapping his arms around Jacob and squeezing him tightly.  
"You're protecting me?"  
"That's what I been saying."  
"You're protecting me from...from Director Graves making me do things I don't want to do?"  
"Yeah." Jacob sighed. "Fine job I'm making of it too."

Newt paused, and tilted his head to one side.  
"Okay. Then thank you. You... that can't have been easy." Newt fidgeted slightly where he stood. "But, if it's all the same with you, I'd quite like Director Graves to kiss me. If... If he wants to."

Jacob looked between the two of them in shock, and turned away slightly as Graves leaned in and closed the gap, kissing Newt as softly as you would a woman.  
"You like that?" He asked Newt in disbelief.  
"Depends who with." Newt said thoughtfully. "But yes. I'm rather fond of Percival. It's part of the reason I've been bringing the aurors cake..." He squeezed Jacob's hand. "Thank you though. You're a good friend."

Feeling more than a little embarrassed, but relieved all the same that Newt was safe, Jacob glanced over at the bakery.   
"Your cakes should be ready by now."  
"Lead the way." Newt said with a smile. Jacob nodded, then turned to the Director.  
"If you hurt him, I don't care that you're magical. You will regret it."  
"I don't doubt that for a moment." The Director said with a slight smile. "But for now, lets see if the cakes are ready."

Jacob led the two of them back over to the shop, seeing that William had done well in his absence. He embraced the boy for a moment, and hoped that if Bill's spirit could see them, he'd understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical note:  
> \- Child labour laws were not in place in America until 1938, and those were more with freeing up jobs for adults than child protection   
> \- Despite our view of the trenches, you were normally only at the front line for a week or so, with another week in support trenches and then a week off  
> \- Self inflicted injuries to get sent back home were so common that soldiers who committed them were often court-martialled


End file.
